


Goodbye

by iamanidhwal



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, BOXES, Betrayal, First and Last Kiss, Flip Side AU, He's just so done, Hurt, Hurt Peter is very very dramatic, It's Wadeykins on the death side now, Kind of OOC I'm sorry, M/M, Oneshot, Peter is done, Role Reversal, Role Reversal AU, So dramatic it's so cheesy, Spideypool - Freeform, Wade dies but not really, hero! Wade, i think, im sorry, lots of swearing, merc! Peter, would pass drama class
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 13:50:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4481624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamanidhwal/pseuds/iamanidhwal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter hadn’t felt the need to settle in, the need for peace, the need for some other presence aside from the voices in his head, ever since he had been... not normal, but sane.</p><p>Wade had given him that, enough for the dorky boy from back then to almost resurface, almost crawl out of the web he had created to trap himself in whatever darkness had resided in his heart.</p><p>Wade took all of it away and played him, strung him along like a lifeless doll. Waited for him to drop his guard, then sprung the trap on him. The trap he had laid out the first day they pulled down their good-bad barriers and hung out.</p><p>Breaking Peter's trust and his heart in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> This is an angsty oneshot based on "Flip Side" by Rider_of_Spades. It's such a great AU, I'm sure I'll make more with this framework! 
> 
> Just wanted to get something cranking, so I thought, hey, why not an angsty oneshot?
> 
> Meh //shrugs
> 
> { x } -- White Box
> 
> [ x ] -- Yellow Box
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

{Lookie, lookie. We’ve got a guest.}

“We do?” Peter asked, munching on a taco rather sloppily. He didn’t mind. His target for the night was lying lifeless in his bedroom in the building directly across the one he was perched on. He went on a well-deserved taco break and went back to watch whoever it was who found the body first. He relished in the unadulterated terror replacing their otherwise bored expressions. Then the scream came – and _oh,_ was the scream delicious. Music to his ears. He thought he could dance on his tiptoes on the rooftop of the building he was in, a haunting refrain that eclipsed his work to dawn on the side of the police’s, or the Avengers.

It seemed that he had company. White was perceptive enough, but he really didn’t need someone to remind him. He had his Spider sense anyway, and it had alerted him with a presence before White had said it.

{Wow, rude. A simple ‘thank you’ would’ve been enough.}

“Do you think I’m the kind of man who says thank you for something I already know?”

[Play nice!]

To think Yellow would come back online to be the voice of reason. “It must be raining tacos,” he grumbled and gobbled up the last of the shell in his hands.

[I heard that!]

{I think he meant it to be heard.}

[Rebellion? What are you, a teenager?]

{Well, technically… I mean, he just turned eighteen, but everyone thinks he’s –}

“Jailbait,” he completed for White, smirking. He licked at the crumbs on his fingers, making popping noises as each finger left his mouth. “Evenin’, Poolie.”

The footsteps that were trying too hard to be silent stopped, replaced by steady ones, toward him, no longer trying to hide his presence. Peter absently turned around, crouching low, one leg stretched out to trace a line on the dusty rooftop. His hands were poised on the ground, ready to lash out if needed be. He looked up at Deadpool, snarling. “Ah, ah, ah. Personal space.”

The hero in his tell-tale red and black suit held up his hands. “Alright, alright.” He said and stopped just on the line, rocking on his heels. Peter had a headache trying to categorize if he was crossing the line or not, so he stopped trying altogether.

“The boxes say hi.”

{I don’t remember greeting anybody.}

[Hel- _l_ _oooooooooo, handsome!_ ]

{Make him stop.}

“ _You_ make him stop,” Peter snapped at White, distracted, as Yellow started wolf-whistling. They always bickered at the wrong time.

{You know I can’t.}

“You alright, Spides?” Deadpool asked, body language telling him what his masked face can’t – he was concerned. Peter felt maniacal laughter threaten to bubble from his chest and to spill out of his mouth, but he held it down. Deadpool – an _Avenger –_ was concerned about a mercenary, on the other edge of the good-bad spectrum. It sounded like a set-up to a horrible joke.

[Or a badly-written Spideypool fanfic!]

{Shut up.}

“Shut up,” Peter mirrored to Yellow, but saw that Deadpool had thought it was directed to him. He didn’t correct him, though, although his mouth had opened automatically to do so. He just cleared his throat and stood up, pulling his mask down again. “What do you want, Deadpool? Do the Avengers have a warrant or at least a goddamn _reason_ for a visit this time, or is it still the good ol’ back-stabbing ‘incapacitate and drag to HQ’ conundrum?”

“I – that wasn’t – I wasn’t part of it back then!” The muscular guy looked hilarious trying to defend himself, gesticulating wildly with those huge – [And _oh so yummy_ ] – arms of his.

Peter hummed to himself, and pretended to be thinking. Then he shook his head, laughing. “Nah. I distinctly heard you shouting at Cap that you had done the job of leading them to my house. I treated you as a _friend._ For fuck’s sake, I even gave you my tacos!”

{The friendship has been bismirched.}

[The besmirchment shall not stand!]

He laughed to himself, but the humor was non-existent. “Then the ruckus started, and everything went crashing down.”

Peter could never forget how that day went. It was a day where he was intent on facing his feelings for the Avenger head-on, to Yellow’s rambunctious cheering and White’s disappointment. He wanted to unmask himself, right there and then, tell the guy that he had been sharing his food with, playing video games with, bantering with, and cooking with, who he was and that, well, he had a raging heart-on, for the guy.

[Added to the raging hard-on, of course.]

But when Deadpool had arrived, he was fidgety, and he couldn’t look Peter in the eye. That’s when he heard a faint beeping from Wade, and then his Spider sense had gone haywire. He had led the Avengers to his secret residence, even when he hadn’t been on official mercenary business after Wade started to hang out with him. He had been cooped up in his laboratory, trying to see how much his healing factor could withstand and repair within a minute. But the Avengers had thought he was behind the awfully distracting scheduled explosions all over the city, only because one of their numerous little birdies had seen him investigate what the _fuck_ was keeping him up at 3 AM when he was finally on the verge of collapsing after being awake for 72 hours straight.

“After I broke out of that shithole you put me in, I saw my home – or what was supposed to be my home, anyway.”

[It was such a nice nest, too…]

{Goodbye research.}

[And our secret stash of burritos!]

{Goodbye skyline view.}

[And privacy!]

{Goodbye X-box.}

[Petey’s old web shooters!]

{And residence altogether.}

[So long, farewell, _Auf Wiedersehen,_ goodbye!]

“It was _my home!”_ He screamed, bitterness and regret and despair mixed in a threatening cocktail in the pit of his stomach. He knew he’d explode the minute he’d get into contact with Avengers after he broke out, and it happened to be Deadpool. Tough luck for him, but whatever it was inside Peter that resembled any kind of affection beyond friendship were merely shards he was too angry to pick up and throw away properly. “You took that away from me on something so banal as bad intel, and you _heroes_ don’t even apologize, no less than set me the fuck free!”

“What do you care?” Now Deadpool was on the defensive. The diplomatic air around him fell away like ash. “People like you don’t need homes if you destroy people’s families.”

{Oh.}

[Wow.]

{Well, that was stupid on his part.}

[You were so perfeeeect...]

Something inside him snapped. Peter didn’t think. He didn’t even remember ever moving from his spot. But he had started to run, had started to move even before Deadpool started to react, so it was no surprise that when he delivered an uppercut to Deadpool’s jaw, it connected and sent the man sprawling. But the white-hot anger coursing through his veins told him it wasn’t enough. Was singing for blood to run down his arm, to skin his suit and knuckles. It’d be okay. Deadpool was immortal, anyway.

Peter pressed his knee against Deadpool’s windpipe, and supported most of his weight on the other. His stance was not enough to completely choke, but enough to restrict. He pinned both of the man’s arms above his head with one hand, before he could start writhing. The other man was coming to and trying to gasp for breath, but before he got the idea of bucking like a bull until he threw Peter off – a thing he can do quite easily, given their difference in physique – he unsheathed one kerambit and held it against his throat.

[This is such a kinky pose, Peter! I never thought you had it in you!]

{Could’ve been better if it was the other way around.}

[Fuck yeah.]

{Without the kerambit.}

[What? No, that adds to the thrill!]

“Totally spoiling the mood here,” Peter snarled, then tuned the voices out. “Stop squirming.”

“Yeah, I totally don’t want to have a face full of your pelvic wonders,” Deadpool snapped. Peter didn’t care.

[Of course you do!]

{I begrudgingly have to agree with Yellow. You want to bone the man.}

[Or him to bone you!]

{Whichever works.}

[Whichever happens! Anything steamy, we’re on board!]

“Shut up!” He screamed, and Deadpool stilled once more, not wanting to aggravate Peter further, with whatever he was already irritating him in the first place. The kerambit sliced through a small amount of skin slipping through. “I do _not_ want to do whatever-it-is with him!”

{You mean sex, right?}

[Could be murder. We can never tell with Peteypie.]

{We actually can, though.}

{Oh, _riiiiight…_ }

He grunted in frustration then concentrated on the anger. The betrayal. The bitterness that had taken hold of him as he killed time making webs all over the door of the holding room he had been stuck in. Peter Parker was gone, had been dead since he had first spilt blood. And that blood had been Harry’s, his friend’s, dripping from his hands after Gwen had fallen to her death. Peter hadn’t felt the need to settle in, the need for peace, the need for some other presence aside from the voices in his head, ever since he had been... not _normal,_ but _sane._

Wade had given him that, enough for the dorky boy from back then to _almost_ resurface, _almost_ crawl out of the web he had created to trap himself in whatever darkness had resided in his heart.

Wade took all of it away and played him, strung him along like a lifeless doll. Waited for him to drop his guard, then sprung the trap on him. The trap he had laid out the first day they pulled down their good-bad barriers and hung out.

Breaking Peter's trust and his heart in the process.

“I trusted you,” he whispered, trying to let it go, trying to move on. The scream from the bedroom he had been watching before Deadpool showed up wasn’t music to him anymore. It was merely background noise, barely heard above the static. He could feel the Avenger jerking in surprise at the sound of it, at the scream of help, but moving against the kerambit on his neck would injure him and impede him from helping. Peter pushed it against him some more, drawing beads of blood. “I trusted you so much, and you let me down.”

“Spidey,” Deadpool tried to explain. “I… Hear me out.”

“I’m done listening to you and your mouth full of lies.” He shook his head. “I was going to tell you _everything_ that day. I was going to show you my whole face. Give you my identity.”

“Spidey, it wasn’t… I didn’t want to trap you!”

{That’s exactly what you did though.}

[Ding dong, king kong.]

“I didn’t!” The man insisted, as if he could hear Yellow and White. “I genuinely wanted to befriend you.”

Peter hissed at him. “Befriend a mercenary? Oh, _Wade,_ ” he mumbled, shocking the Avenger once more with the use of his name. “Sometimes I think you’re just acting stupid, but sometimes I can’t tell.”

“H-How did you –“

“Well, Wadey-poo, I have a nifty little gadget that got me some very good intel on the Avengers when I broke out.” He smiled widely, feral, stretching the mask just to highlight the outlines of his mouth. “Of course, the transfer wasn’t complete. Had to run when the alarms went _wang-wang_.”

[Heh. Double wang.]

{ _We get it._ }

“But it was enough.” He hummed. “Eh, Wade Wilson?”

“We can talk this out –“

“No,” Peter said, finality ringing in his voice. “No, we can’t.”

He first took his kerambit away, then the hand that was pinning both of his arms above Wade’s head. “No sudden movements,” he warned, but he knew Wade wasn’t going to try anything. Not with his katanas being squashed against his back and his guns unreachable what with Peter acting like a dead weight on his chest.

He pushed up Wade’s mask and absently watched the scars and sores shifting around. He missed seeing them when Wade would talk loudly or eat or drink or sleep. Sighing, he pushed his own mask up.

{Oh, are we--?}

[Ooooh, we totally are! Smooch up!]

Peter didn’t mind Wade being unresponsive for the first few seconds, and he wasn’t at all apologetic when he more or less crushed his lips with Wade’s, roughly nipping on his lower lip. For the first time in his life, words have failed him. The anger, the despair, it was all too much. He put everything, all of what he felt – from joy to lust to anger to regret – into this one kiss, wishing Wade would understand, would know what he had lost, what could’ve been and can never be.

Wade started to respond, one of his arms snaking around Peter’s waist, but he wasn’t getting anything more than this.

Peter tried not to think of how Wade chased his lips for more when he finally leaned back, slightly panting and with blood rushing to some parts he didn’t want to think about until much later, when he was miles away from Wade. He tried hard not to stay a few seconds longer in Wade’s one arm embrace, try not to give in and have another taste. One was enough. One was the only thing he’d allow himself.

He sat up and slowly but surely pulled the mask off his own head. His jaw was set, and he stared at Wade, imagining his eyes scanning over every part of his face, trying to memorize it, trying to process things.

“This is goodbye, Wade Wilson,” he said quietly. His hands quickly took out what looked to be an EpiPen. He had put a small but lethal dose of a poison he had just perfected the night before. Without another word, he jabbed it into Wade’s neck.

He stood up, not wanting to see how Wade gurgled and choked, trying to gasp for air. He closed his eyes, trying to break the subsequent events into technical terms.

Asphyxiation would occur. Motor senses become sluggish. Organs will fail, one by one. Senses go. Until the heart finally stills.

Struggling would make the venom spread faster. He had never tested it out on innocents. To be honest, the only one he tried it on before Wade was the man he had killed for intel as to the whereabouts of his target for tonight.

Wade would survive it, he knew he would, with that freakishly amazing healing factor of his.

But by the time he would come around, Peter would be gone.

For good.

{Blue men approaching, blue men approaching.}

Peter looked down from the edge of the building. Cops were on the move. In two minutes they would find the corpse in the room. In under another minute, they’d find the hole in the glass from where the bullet went through. In less than thirty seconds, they’d put two and two together and have men up here in this building’s rooftop.

{They would find Wade.}

[They’d never suspect an Avenger to have a hand on this... right?]

{Maybe not openly.}

[Besides, the guy’s got katanas and guns. What the hell do they think they can do against the guy?]

Peter just let his boxes banter. He slipped his mask on again, trying not to concentrate on the tingly feeling on his lips. Wade’s body had gone still. He reckoned it would be ten minutes before he started twitching to life. But then again, he never studied the rate of his healing factor.

And he never will.

Peter swung away from the rooftop, knowing full well that it wasn’t just Wade he was leaving on that rooftop, but his heart as well. 


End file.
